Mess
by marap
Summary: 'The party had slowly drawn to its natural conclusion. The guests had all left, minus her mother. Well, Sam was still there too. But he wasn't exactly a guest. He was just Sam.' Sam/Andy. Tag for 3x06.


AN: This is an episode tag for 3x06 that I started much earlier in the week after whinging about the lack of post-ep Sam/Andy fics. SVUgirl suggested I write one myself and so I started it, but only just got around to finishing it now. I raced to finish it before 3x07, so that it still refers to the most recent episode. I apologise for any typos. I have edited, but like last time, it is well after midnight and my eyes are weary, so forgive me! Hope you like it and please review! X

**Mess**

The party had slowly drawn to its natural conclusion. The guests had all left, minus her mother. Well, Sam was still there too. But he wasn't exactly a guest. He was just _Sam_. The apartment was quiet and the music had been replaced with the gentle hum of the street below. Minus the balloons - which were now a little less perky than they had been at the start of the evening - the only evidence that a party had taken place was in the scattered plates and glasses and in the crumbs on the floor. Truly the mess wasn't that bad. Had none of them had to be at work the next day, it'd have likely been a lot worse.

The wildest moment of the evening was when Jerry got a little too enthusiastic about his dancing and felt the need to do a Michael Jackson pelvic thrust. Sam had said he was scarred for life. Traci had agreed. Abandoning him on his imaginary dance floor, Traci had made conversation with Claire and watched as Jerry tried – to little avail - to get Gail to dance with him.

With the party now over, Sam began cleaning up in the kitchen, while Andy tackled the living room. She spotted beer bottles on the sofa. It felt familiar, for reasons she'd rather not recall. She was moving to collect them when Claire beat her to it, reaching for the bottles swiftly. Andy stopped her with a wave of the hand.

'Leave it, it's fine,' Andy said, still a little awkward and unsure just how to communicate with her mother. That simple fact seemed unnatural in itself. 'You don't have to clean up.'

'Oh, I don't mind,' Claire said, carrying on.

'No, really,' Andy said. 'You set this whole thing up, the least I can do is clean up.'

Claire straightened, holding all the beer bottles at once, with the skill of a bartender or top-notch waitress. It was a skill Andy didn't remember her mother having had, all those years ago.

'Alright,' Claire relented. 'Just let me put these in the kitchen,' she said, lifting her hands to bring attention to the bottles they held.

Andy watched as her mother moved swiftly toward the kitchen. She spotted some flour in a corner of the kitchen floor. It was quite possible that she and Sam had got a little distracted mid clean-up the night before.

Claire moved past one side of the kitchen island. Sam stood at the opposite side, attending to the mess cluttered upon the surface. Sam glanced up at Claire as she passed, giving a smile that was slightly less tight-lipped than previous ones he'd sent her way.

He was still concerned. But he'd give her the benefit of the doubt. For Andy's sake. Only because he knew that if - god forbid - Claire did break Andy's heart again, he would be there to collect the pieces before they hit the ground.

He looked to Andy. Her expression seemed to suggest that she had something to say, but he didn't prompt her or ask. His gaze would suffice. A reminder that he was there if she needed him.

Claire's back was turned to them as she faced the sink, lowering the bottles onto the counter beside it.

'I'm not...' Andy began, stumbling for words as Claire turned back toward her as she made her way out of the kitchen. 'I mean, I'm not trying to kick you out or anything.'

'No, no,' Claire said, waving her hands awkwardly before bringing them together. 'I know that. But I'll leave you to it,' she said. 'Anyway, thank you for letting me do this and be there for the party.'

'Yeah,' Andy said with a small smile that made her look so very young. 'Thank you for all the help.'

'It was my pleasure,' Claire said with a warm smile on her face. A face that looked softly haggard in a way it had not once been. It was strange, but in all the times Andy had thought of her mother over the years - more than she would like to admit - she had never pictured her looking a day older than she had the last time she had kissed her daughter goodnight. Andy hadn't accounted for the ageing that came with life and time. _And a hell of a lot of time, at that._

'Bye Sam,' Claire said, looking past her daughter.

Sam raised a hand in his signature wave. This time, he threw in a 'seeya' - unlike the day before. Andy showed her mother out and leant against the closed door. She was beat.

'Do we really have to go to work tomorrow?'

'Unless we want another suspension on our hands,' Sam said, scrubbing down the bench tops.

Andy moved toward the sofa, picking up the television remote. She flopped onto the couch, checking out and unintentionally leaving Sam with the rest of clean-up duty.

'Oh I get it,' Sam said. 'This my penance,' he said, referring to his earlier misstep and Andy's resulting anger.

Andy smiled, finding that her anger had fully dissipated. Clearly Sam had sensed that, knowing he was safe joking about it. 'Just leave it,' she said, referring to the clean-up. 'I'll do it later,' she said without turning to look.

'No, you won't.' It was probably true.

Andy made a 'pft' noise with her lips and rolled her eyes. 'Hey, I'm going with messy remember?' She twisted around to face him, leaning her arm and chin on the back of the couch.

'Does that mean I can stop shaving?'

'Not unless I can too,' Andy said. It was an automatic reply, one she regretted as soon as the words left her lips. Sam looked at her with brows raised as Andy's face scrunched in disgust. 'Okay, ew.'

Sam laughed softly and turned to load the dishwasher. He carefully arranged and rearranged the dishes in order to accommodate as many of them as possible. When he was finished, all that was left was an oversized oval plate. He washed it quickly and left it to drip dry in the draining rack.

'Your mom did a good job,' Sam said, hanging a stray tea towel over the oven door and making his way toward Andy. She was now turned sideways on the couch with her legs stretched out and bent a little, her knees making denim hills that peeked out above the top of the couch, accompanied by just the top of her head.

Andy smiled as Sam passed and sat beside her, hauling her legs into his lap. 'Yeah, she did.'

'In the interests of being honest and not going behind your back,' he began. He looked her in the eye and gently gripped her boot-clad ankles as if in reassurance - or to urge her not to shift position or pull away. 'I'm still worried. And there's not much I can do about it. I'm worried she's gonna disappoint you. But I'll follow your lead this time. It's your decision, I'm just tagging along for the ride. If you'll have me.'

She narrowed her eyes as if considering her options. 'You can stay,' Andy said with a shoulder shrug.

'Gee, thanks,' Sam said in faux offense. She giggled. He tugged at her jean-covered legs, pulling her body further along the couch, closer to him. Her knees were in his lap and the lessened distance allowed him to lean forward and kiss her, intently and with considered control that kept it soft and simple. Really, their kissing was the most natural thing in the world. So much so, that no theatrics or technique was necessary. They could be half asleep and stifling yawns and their kisses would still be just as real.

He nuzzled her nose gently before leaning back and undoing the laces on her left boot. His hands worked easily as he glanced up at the TV, which was playing some bad action movie.

'What are you watching?' He nodded toward the TV.

'Nothing.'

'Sounds awesome,' he said, emphasizing the 'awe' in sarcastic enthusiasm, tossing Andy's left boot onto the floor and starting work on the right one.

'I was waiting for you,' she said with a slight shyness that she rarely showed. _Their first time._ Few instances before or since.

'What for?' Sam asked with a gentleness prompted by Andy's demeanor.

She picked up the remote and pressed a button. A grainy image filled the screen, the pause icon displayed in the top right corner. The frozen picture showed a little girl sitting at a kitchen breakfast bar, messy brown hair and polka dot pyjamas with a unicorn on the chest.

Andy looked up at him with doe eyes, not speaking. Another rarity.

But she didn't need to. Sam knew what was on the screen. Or rather, who was on the screen. The nose was squishier with that soft pudginess of childhood. The hair shorter and with straight-across bangs. But the eyes were unmistakable. He glanced between the Andy on the screen and the Andy half in his lap.

He knew what this was. The home videos Claire had given Andy the day before. He hadn't mentioned them directly, waiting for her to bring it up or say she wanted to watch them. 'You sure you want me to watch these with you?'

'Yeah,' she said. 'I mean, If you want to. If you don't want to, then you don't have to...'

'And miss seeing if you were as recklessly determined back then as you are now?' he teased. 'I wouldn't pass up that opportunity, McNally.'

She smiled and pressed play as he tossed off her other boot. It fell to the ground with a gentle clunk.

The little girl on the screen rubbed her eyes, clearly having woken only moments earlier. She sipped on a glass of orange juice before her mother appeared beside her and told her to close her eyes. Little Andy's big eyes closed and she pressed her fingers to them as if to keep them shut. Then, Claire and Tommy - who looked drastically younger and more well-kempt - arranged presents on the counter in front of her. The camera was now steady, but aimed a little too high, so that the picture was cropped at the bottom. It was clear that Tommy had put the camera down, so that he too could arrange gifts. But Claire pushed his hands away when he adjusted her positioning of a big box covered in purple paper that read 'birthday girl' in pink and blue swirly text.

'There weren't many more like this,' Andy said softly as the birthday scene unfolded before them.

'Maybe the next one, McNally,' Sam said, hoping he wasn't lying. He was still worried by Claire, after all. But he'd try to put some of the faith that Andy had in her, in her himself. Or at least, in Andy. 'I better be invited, though,' he added cheekily, looking down from the Andy he'd just met to the Andy that he knew so well.

She smiled as she looked up at him with quiet determination. 'I think that's a safe bet.'


End file.
